


Jealousy (turning saints into the sea)

by knlalla



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Jealous!Dan, Jealousy, M/M, Pastel Dan Howell, Pastel Dan and Punk Phil, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Punk Phil Lester, Smut, pastel!dan, phanfic, punk!dan - Freeform, punk!phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: Phil's reconnecting with an old friend who just moved to London and Dan's jealous. Worried that Phil may be losing interest, Dan decides to go punk. (Dan POV)This is purely a work of fiction, I don't own Dan and Phil.





	Jealousy (turning saints into the sea)

The door slammed shut, I could hear it from the lounge. “Phil?” I set my laptop aside, standing up and stretching. “Hey, do you want to maybe catch up on some anime?” I knew I was a bit clingy sometimes, but I hadn’t really seen him all day, and I just wanted to spend some time together. I waited for the telltale sound of footsteps climbing the stairs and was a bit surprised to hear  _ voices _ . One, Phil’s, but I didn’t recognize the other.

I shut my mouth, waiting for Phil and his  _ friend  _ to reach the landing -  _ stop acting jealous, Dan _ . Phil didn’t bring people over all that often, so this must’ve been someone important. A moment before the two arrived in the lounge, I managed to fix my flower crown and straighten my jumper - a soft baby blue and oversized; extremely comfortable, but not exactly the kind of thing I’d have picked if I knew to expect company.

“Hello,” I said, quietly, taking in the view: the two were a study in black. Phil’s dark skinny jeans and similarly black shirt looked to be the perfect complement to the punk attire of his new companion - light reflected off a number of zips and piercings, and my eyes were drawn to the dark swirling tattoos that ran up the guy’s arms.

“Hey, Dan! I’m so glad you’re up,” I tried not to take offense - I was often asleep til the afternoon, and it was just around eleven now. Phil had left our room early, but I was barely awake enough to acknowledge him leaving. “I was meeting Chris for coffee, and thought it’d be great to invite him over, since you two haven’t met yet!” I forced a small smile, trying to be polite.  _ I have no clue who this is, but I definitely want to be nice, for Phil’s sake. _

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I extended a hand, silently cursing as I noticed the chipped pink polish on my nails.  _ Way to make a great first impression - you look like a mess. _ I shook his hand quickly, then pulled back and just stood a bit awkwardly.

Chris broke the silence, his thick northern accent coming through more prominent than Phil’s. “So, how’d you two meet?” He looked to Phil, and I kept my silence, allowing him to answer.

“Dan actually watched a lot of my YouTube videos, back in the day! Hard to believe it, looking at him, but we got to talking and found out we had a lot in common, and the rest is history!” I didn’t add anything, though I couldn’t help but feel the slight jab - Phil hadn’t meant it in a mean way, I knew, but he had a point: we looked like we came from different universes. It was remarkable we shared any interests, and even more remarkable that we were together, but we just fit each other.

I tried not to notice that he hadn’t mentioned that we were dating.  _ He probably told Chris before they returned to the apartment, _ I reasoned. Suddenly uncomfortable with the way Chris was watching Phil, I decided to chime in.

“So, uh, how did you and Phil meet?” I aimed the question at the newcomer instead of Phil, hoping to turn his attention. Meanwhile, my nerves were setting in pretty heavily, and I started playing with the edges of my jumper as I waited for an answer.

“Oh, Phil and I go  _ way _ back,” he laughed, nudging Phil with an elbow, and Phil joined in with a chuckle. I tried a smile, but it felt more unpleasant than genuine - I hoped Phil would notice my discomfort, he was usually great at keeping me calm during awkward social encounters.

“We met ages ago, and he’s only just moved to London. Isn’t that great?” Phil suddenly turned to me, and I pushed the smile a bit harder.  _ If this guy’s a friend of Phil’s, I should make more of an effort. _ My attempt seemed to have paid off, as Phil’s smile grew.

“Yeah, that’s great!” I enthused, still desperately hoping Phil would understand how I was feeling. But if he noticed, he didn’t say anything - just turned back to Chris and struck up some conversation about  _ that one time we were at the park and... _ I quickly tuned it out, and Phil dragged his  _ buddy _ into the kitchen, offering snacks.

Chris stayed for the rest of the day, leaving before dark to return to his own flat, and Phil  _ finally _ joined me on the sofa.

“So?” He started, and I glanced up lazily from my computer screen.  _ Don’t be petty, Dan, he’s just excited to see his friend again _ .

“Chris seems like a great guy. I can’t believe you’ve never talked about him before!” I was shooting for a light, friendly tone, but I wasn’t sure it came across. Jealousy was all I could think of, all day, as the two had chattered on and on about old times - I knew we had history, but they  _ clearly _ had quite a bit more.

“Yeah, we’d lost touch when we both went to uni, and then I got so wrapped up in YouTube, and he only just reached out to say he’d moved to London and we should hang out!” He seemed so happy, I didn’t want to rain on his parade.

“That’s great! I’m glad you two met up again.” I wasn’t sure what else to say at this point, so I turned back to my screen and fumbled with a sweater paw as I scrolled through some emails. I’d gotten a lot done today, in an attempt to distract myself from the two  _ best buds _ .

“Yeah! So we were thinking, maybe we could all three go grab lunch and see a movie tomorrow? Would you want to do that? I know you don’t know him all that well, but...” Phil trailed off, but I could hear the excitement in his voice.  _ I was the same way, when we first started seeing each other - I wanted every opportunity to hang out with him. Hell, I haven’t really changed much since then… _

I sighed internally, though -  _ Can I really sit through another trip down memory lane?  _ I made the split-second decision: “I’m not sure, I’ve got to do some filming tomorrow. Maybe another time?” He looked so dejected, so I amended my answer. “I mean,  _ you _ should still go! He’s  _ your _ friend, after all. We can all hang out some other time!” I, again, attempted to inject my tone with some enthusiasm.

And it was  _ almost _ worth it, to see how brightly he smiled. “Okay, if you’re sure!” He didn’t wait for a confirmation, though, just bolted up and grabbed his phone, making his way to the office to -  _ I assume _ \- do some editing. And I returned to my screen, hoping to drown out the ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach.

_ I’m jealous of this guy, who I know nothing about, and I just signed off on Phil meeting up with him  _ alone _? What am I thinking? _ But I’d already committed and I wasn’t about to change my mind.  _ Phil’s allowed to have other friends, he doesn’t have to spend all his time with me. _

The words didn’t help the twisting in my gut, though.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Dan! I’m headed out - I’ll see you later, probably be back around four or five!” Phil shouted, and the door shut behind him before I could respond.

“ _ Yeah, have fun! Don’t forget about me! _ ” I called, sarcasm lacing the words I shouted at the empty apartment. Phil had spent the majority of the evening holed up in the office, only emerging once to grab some food and disappear again. By the time he’d finished editing and returned to the lounge, I was in a better mood and attempted some small talk, but he was absolutely transfixed by his phone, and I couldn’t keep the conversation going.

Eventually giving up, I’d gone to our room to spend some time calming down and brainstorming for my video. Phil hadn’t joined me until after I’d fallen asleep, and he’d been up before me yet again. As I left our room this morning, he’d been on his way out of the bathroom after showering. And he was dressed in head-to-toe black. Not that this was  _ incredibly _ unusual, but he’d even gone for black earrings, which was a bit uncommon. On his way out the door, I watched him grab the black leather jacket – another item of clothing he didn’t often wear - and sling it over a shoulder.

Now, the full black was definitely attractive on him, but I’d always thought he’d been more comfortable in a combination of black and bright colors.  _ Not to mention,  _ I’ve _ always preferred him that way. _ I had decided not to comment -  _ not that he’d given me any time to - _ but I wondered if it had anything to do with the punk-heavy aesthetic that Chris had been giving off yesterday.

 

_ What if he’s toning down his black attire because of me? _ I couldn’t recall ever mentioning any dislike for his darker clothing choices, but I was often telling him how great he looked whenever he wore bright colors. Maybe he’d picked up on it?  _ Or maybe I had said something, and I just can’t recall? _ Instead of jumping into filming mode, I felt compelled to do some research.

In most of Phil’s videos earlier videos, when I’d started watching him, he had some splash of color. A few, though, I noticed he was dressed fully in black.  _ Did I really care what he wore, though? Even back then? _ I couldn’t help the thoughts running through my head, but I was curious now. I wanted to ask him, but it felt like such a bizarre question and I couldn’t think of a way to bring it up. So I pretended not to notice as the days passed, and he kept spending more time with Chris. Less time with me.

\-----------------------------------------------

“Hey Phil!” I was feeling in a particularly good mood this morning, and I was hoping for a joint trip to Starbucks, or perhaps a Mario Kart tournament. “What are you up to...today…” my voice trailed off as I entered the lounge, where Phil was stood with Chris and chatting amicably.

“Oh, hey, Dan!” Chris said politely, and Phil glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “We were just about to head out, Phil wanted to take me on the London Eye! How cool is that? I can’t believe I’ve never been,” Chris looked rather excited, eyes lighting up behind the heavy eyeliner.

“Yeah, Dan! Want to join us? We can wait a bit for you to get ready!” Phil added, and I dropped my gaze to my outfit - a pastel pink shirt with white skinny jeans.  _ I am ready,  _ I wanted to snap at him, but I backed off.  _ I opted for no flower crown today, and I didn’t straighten my hair - he probably just thinks I want to go do that before leaving the house. _

“No, I’m good, I’ve got some editing to do, I keep putting it off,” I finished with a weak chuckle, hoping they wouldn’t notice my cheeks flushing. “You guys go have fun!” All this false enthusiasm was starting to grate on my last nerve. I spun on a heel, returning to our room, and plunked down on the bed. If Phil noticed that I hadn’t gone to the office to edit, he didn’t mention it.

I waited for the telltale thunk of the door closing before returning to the lounge to grab my laptop, which I’d left there the night before. Once I was settled comfortably back on my bed, I pulled up Tumblr. Whenever I was missing Phil -  _ he’s right here, you idiot, it’s not like he’s away on holiday _ \- I would pull up the Phan tag. We weren’t actually out to our fans, but I loved seeing all the adorable edits and Heart Eyes Howell/Love Eyes Lester gifs and screenshots. They could always pull me out of a shit mood.  _ Maybe...we aren’t out to our fans, maybe that’s why Phil hasn’t mentioned anything to Chris. Or kissed me in front of him. Or anything. _ I sighed, hoping Tumblr could stop my wallowing.

As I scrolled, I reached across to my bedside table.  _ Nothing more calming than painting my nails, and they  _ really _ need it _ . As my hand fumbled to open the drawer with my eyes still locked on my screen, I noticed a punk edit of me. Our fans liked to edit us into our “opposites”: punk for me, pastel for Phil. The juxtaposition was pretty funny, given how averse Phil was to the pale colors I loved to wear - he didn’t necessarily hate them  _ on me _ –  _ he didn’t, did he? _ \- but he always complained about how they washed out his already-pale skin and how he’d  _ never _ wear them himself.

_Does he...does he dislike when_ I _wear pastel colors?_ The thought had never really occurred to me before, he’d never said anything aside from his own dislike for _wearing_ the colors... _but what if he doesn’t like it?_ _What if_ that’s _why he’s spending so much time with Chris, what if he..._ suddenly, the thought I’d been fighting off bombarded me - _what if he_ likes _Chris?_ It was stupid, I _knew_ how stupid it sounded, but Phil had been acting so differently since Chris moved to London…

Hand still frozen on the bedside drawer, I studied the punk edit of myself - my hair was a shade darker, with a streak of red, and my light turquoise earrings had been replaced with black studs. I had snakebite piercings and a nose ring, and black liner rimmed my eyes. I was wearing a black tee, black skinny jeans, and had a myriad of tattoos crawling across my arms and up my neck. While the attire itself wasn’t incredibly unusual, and I certainly owned a few black items, wearing them together was not something I did. Nor was it common to see my head without a flower crown.

Frowning at the image, I made a snap decision. I pulled the drawer open, sliding aside my typical shades of polish and searching for the one I’d only ever used once. Phil had agreed to let me paint his nails a few months ago, as long as I promised to use black. He’d kept the polish on for as long as it had lasted, but had never asked me to do it again.

I pulled out the full bottle and some nail polish remover, taking off the remains of the light pink I’d been using lately. The stark contrast of black against my pale skin was a bit of a shock as I painted the first nail, but I kept at it. By the time I’d finished, I was feeling a bit more confident - I really didn’t look half bad in the punk edit staring at me from my laptop screen, so I decided to roll with it.

After an hour of  _ very carefully _ searching - couldn’t mess up the nails - I managed to place an order for same-day delivery. Satisfied, I tested my nails – dry enough, finally - and hopped up from the bed. I listened for a moment, but it was still early and I didn’t hear anything outside the bedroom indicating Phil had returned, so I turned to our wardrobe.

I had a handful of black clothes, mostly worn in conjunction with a pale pastel or white shirt and an equally light flower crown, but I was going for full punk attire. I pulled out every black piece of fabric, laying them out across the bed, and surveyed my options.

_ Definitely black skinny jeans, that’s a given, _ I nodded to myself, picking up an older pair that I didn’t wear much. Locking on the memory of the first time Phil had brought Chris around, I decided to get some rips going.  _ That’s  _ very _ punk. _ I pulled up a tutorial on ripping jeans and got to work - fortunately, we had some odd equipment lying around that Phil had insisted on buying for some video or other.

After another hour spent working on the old jeans, I’d settled on a ripped look that I was satisfied with and swapped my white ones for the black. I stared at my reflection for a moment in the mirror, marveling at my handiwork -  _ I look a hell of a lot sexier in these than Chris did in his _ . I couldn’t help it, letting a smile creep to my face. I wasn’t usually big on showing skin, preferring to sweat in the heat than toss on a pair of shorts, but I wasn’t about to let Phil fall for Chris.

My work wasn’t done yet, though - fortunately, I still hadn’t heard the door, so Phil hadn’t returned yet - and I started rifling through my dark shirts. I tried on one after the other, but none really felt  _ right _ \- something about the black-on-black was just throwing me off, so I took another foray into the wardrobe.

This time, I opted for pulling out anything with black on it, and returned to the bed - now littered with discarded shirts - with a few more choices. I pulled on a dark gray button-up, plaid with black and a lighter shade of gray, and assessed my reflection.

_ Fuck, I’d do me, _ I tried a smirk on for good measure and found it suited the whole ensemble rather well. At that exact moment, I heard the buzzer at our front door and nearly jumped out of my skin. “That’ll be the order,” I said to nobody as I made my way down the stairs. As the cool air of the autumn afternoon hit my exposed skin, I shivered, collecting the package.  _ Bless Amazon Prime _ , I chuckled to myself, locking the door behind me.

I actually sort of ran up the stairs, excited to see what I’d look like with full “punk” attire - I didn’t think I’d like it quite this much, but I was feeling giddy opening the box. I’d ordered a few punk necessities, and I pulled them all out of the box and laid them across the desk in our room. Some hoops and clip-on piercings, black studs to replace my own earrings, some spray-in red hair dye, an eye pencil, and, at the bottom of the box, a magnetic tongue piercing.

I unpackaged the various bits of metal, swapping my earrings first and checking my appearance in the mirror.  _ Okay, that’s not a bad look _ , I nodded, returning to the desk.  _ Now, which ones to use… _

I opted to start with a nose ring, figuring that was traditionally hardcore, and I was pleased with the look - it also wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d expected. The snakebite piercings, however, felt a bit awkward -  _ though they are kind of fun to lick _ \- so I tossed them back on the desk. I tried another ring across my eyebrow, and it looked pretty good, so I kept that one, and added another hoop to the top of an ear.

After a few more minutes of staring at the various remaining rings, I decided to scroll through the punk edits on my laptop in case there were any ideas I’d not thought about. When nothing jumped out at me, I glanced in the mirror again - _ maybe I should go ahead and keep the snakebites _ , I decided, replacing them on my lips and running my tongue across the cool metal.

_ My tongue! _ I returned to the desk, tossing around the plastic packaging until I found the magnetic tongue piercing. Once secured on my tongue, it felt a bit odd but didn’t really hurt like I’d been worried it would. The abundance of metal in my mouth worried me a bit, so I started talking to myself aloud for practice.  _ The last thing I need is to sound like a complete idiot when I’m trying to  _ impress _ Phil. _

I spent the next twenty minutes straightening my hair and waffling aloud about nothing, and by the time I’d returned to grab the can of hair dye, I was feeling fairly comfortable. Back in the bathroom, I assessed myself in the mirror.  _ I almost feel a bit...weird, putting on all this punk stuff - is it making fun of the way Phil and the rest of those people dress?  _ But I found I was quite enjoying myself, and I actually sort of  _ liked _ how I looked, so I tried not to worry too much about it.

Spraying in the dye on my own was kind of rough, but I managed it after a few botched attempts that left the hand protecting my face covered in red. Satisfied with the newly dyed fringe, I washed my hands off and returned once again to the bedroom.

Though I knew Phil already had some black eyeliner, I didn’t want to steal his, so I’d gone ahead and bought my own. I had a pretty good handle on applying most different types of makeup from all the tutorials I’d watched, but eyeliner had always been a tough one; I rarely wore it, since it drew quite a bit of attention to my eyes and I wasn’t the biggest fan of eye contact with strangers.

In a burst of inspiration, to channel my inner emo self into this punk aesthetic, I decided to turn on some music - a bit of MCR, some Panic!, and the like - then returned to the mirror to attempt not to stab myself in the eye with the pencil.

\-------------------------------------------

After a tense five minutes, I was rather satisfied with my work, so I returned the pencil to the desk and stood back to admire my work in the mirror.  _ Damn, Daniel, _ I chuckled at myself. I ran my tongue across the piercings again and spent another few seconds critiquing my appearance.  _ Piercings look pretty good, black skinny jeans are absolutely masterful, and- _

My assessment was cut off as Phil stepped into the room.  _ Shit, I hadn’t even heard him come home - of course, the fucking music, why did I think that was a bright idea? _ I was suddenly  _ very _ red, heat rushing to my cheeks as I caught Phil’s eye in the mirror. His jaw was hung open, and he hadn’t moved his hand off the doorknob. In fact, he looked entirely paralyzed.

Now I wasn’t so sure about my “brilliant” idea,  _ clearly Phil thinks I look like an idiot, or he thinks I’m making fun of him, or- _

“What?” I said, spinning around to face him. I was projecting an annoyance I definitely did not feel, in the hopes that he would ignore the heat flushing my face. I was also secretly glad I’d spent so long practicing speaking around the various piercings - a lisp right now would’ve made the whole thing absolutely unbearable.

Phil didn’t say a word, still unmoving, mouth wide open - but his eyes raked across my body, starting low at my feet and following the dark, ripped jeans up to where they disappeared under my plaid shirt, then farther up to stare at my lips, the piercings there.

I schooled my face into as neutral an expression as I could manage, even frowning a bit, waiting for him to say  _ anything _ , but he just curled his lips into a smile and crossed the room toward me -  _ painfully _ slowly. When he was finally stood a foot away, he stopped and spoke.

“What on  _ earth _ are you wearing?” he asked, lips still turned up in a smile that was starting to look more like a smirk.

If possible, my face became a shade of red to match the colored fringe I was now sporting. “Its...I just...uh,” I couldn’t form words, I didn’t know how to explain what had brought on this desire, the jealousy, when I had absolutely no basis for it -  _ because, really, he hadn’t done anything other than hang out with an old friend, there’s no reason for me to be jealous… _

I dropped my gaze to the floor between us, but his hand met my chin and pulled my face back up. He held it for a moment, and the silence around us, so I felt obligated to fill it. I turned away from him, pulling myself free of his light grip.

“I was just...you’ve been spending so much time with Chris lately, and I thought maybe you were into him, cause of how he dressed, and you were dressing more punk than usual, and I thought maybe you didn’t  _ like _ how...flowery I dressed, so I thought maybe I would try to dress differently and…” I trailed off, running out of excuses and explanations, and waited for a response.

And Phil  _ laughed _ . He actually had the nerve to  _ laugh in my face _ , when I was trying to explain why I was so worried about this. I frowned and took a step back.  _ Clearly this whole endeavor was a mistake, I look like an idiot and feel twice as dumb. _

At my reaction, Phil’s laugh became a soft giggle, his tongue poking through his teeth in that way that usually made me smile.

“Dan,  _ Dan _ ,” he said, catching my hands in his and pulling me back to him. “I  _ love _ the way you dress. I love your flower crowns, I love the nail polish, your soft colors, I love it all. I love  _ you _ .” The words were quiet, so I almost didn’t hear them - not that he’d never said it before, but it was exactly what I needed.

“I look like a complete idiot, don’t I?” I asked, burying my face into his shoulder so the words were muffled. “I should get changed,” I lifted my head, intending to step away, but Phil wrapped an arm around my back, so I ended up only a few inches from him.

“Well, I think some of this may be a bit…” he paused, eyeing my lips -  _ I should’ve left off the snakebites, I knew it - _ “much, but I won’t lie, you look  _ very hot _ right now.” My eyebrows arched in surprise as I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, which were a far deeper shade of blue. “Don’t move,” Phil began to remove my extraneous piercings - the snakebites, nose ring, and hoops on my ear and eyebrow - then stood back slightly.

“Well?” I asked, suddenly seeking approval for the effort I’d put into the look. In response, Phil lifted a fist to his mouth, eyes traveling over every inch of my body.

“Well…” he dropped his hand, moving closer to me, then leaned down to trail a few touches along the rips in my jeans. “These are very sexy, I have to approve of the amount of skin you’re showing,” I could hear the smirk in his voice - he knew exactly what he was doing. The hand moved, then, from a rip just above my knee across my thigh and up to the hem of my shirt.

“This, though,” his hand met the skin under my shirt, right at the waist of my jeans. “I’m not entirely sure this is working for you,” then he was behind me, arms reaching around and deftly undoing the buttons. Before I could process it, he had my chest completely exposed, though he left the shirt hanging from my frame.

“Much better,” he said, lips close to my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. I felt him move from behind me, around the other side, to stand in front of me. Another critical review of the changes he’d made, then his chest was pressed up against mine, and my breath caught in my chest.

“I think this could be a good look for you,” he said, voice low, “if you like it,” then his hands were on my hips, just above the top of my jeans, and he pulled me closer to him; our lips met unceremoniously - my mind was still racing to catch up with the past couple minutes. My hands instinctively reached up to rest around his neck, but I was feeling bold.  _ Maybe that’s the appeal of the punk attire _ , I laughed to myself.

Instead of letting Phil take the lead, as he usually did, as he had the past few minutes, I used a hand to push him away - back, toward the bed. He made no attempt to hide his surprise, blue eyes flashing wide as I grinned at him and planted both hands on his chest.

I continued guiding him back to the bed - when he had nowhere else to go, I gave another gentle shove and he fell. He still looked a bit surprised, though his eyes were dark with excitement at whatever I had in mind. I was honestly a little shocked at how much I was enjoying myself.

Despite their skinny nature, my jeans were flexible enough to allow me to straddle Phil, so I suspended myself over his hips and my hands found the collar of his own shirt. I undid each button as slowly as I dared - Phil was watching me with that ferocious desire that I loved, but I wanted to stay in control.

When I’d finished with the shirt, I threw it wide to match my own, then ran my hands up his bare chest. As I’d hoped, he closed his eyes, so I began brushing light kisses from his collarbone down, down, until I met the rough fabric of his jeans.

Phil made a move as if to sit up, but I slid a hand up his chest to force him back down.  _ Oh, Phil, do I have a surprise for you _ , I let the bubble of excitement grow in my chest as I licked my lips, feeling the small metal tongue piercing that Phil had overlooked.

I let my hands remove the obstacles between my lips and his cock, the actions familiar, before glancing up to his face. His eyes were still closed, in anticipation of what came next, and I smirked to myself.  _ This is going to be fun _ .

I wasted no time, then, enjoying the quiet moan Phil made as I took him in my mouth. His initial moan paled in comparison, however, to the one that escaped as I let my tongue – false piercing and all – run along his shaft. As I continued a slow bob of my head, I looked up to find him staring at me incredulously.

I allowed my hand to replace my mouth for a moment, meeting his stare as I stuck out my tongue, letting him see the small orb of metal, before dropping my attention – and tongue – back to his cock. This time, I swirled it around his tip and across the slit, reveling in the sounds I was eliciting.  _ I might have to get a real piercing, if it means I get to keep hearing this _ .

Phil’s hand had already threaded through my hair, and I could feel him tensing up.  _ In half the time _ , I noted, fighting back a smile as I continued, faster now, and took him deeper in my throat.

“ _ Dan! _ ” Phil actually  _ screamed _ my name, and I pulled away as he came. He was usually fairly quiet, and I worried for a moment that our neighbors might’ve heard, or might complain, until I saw the absolute bliss scrawled across his features.  _ Definitely worth any complaints,  _ I decided. He didn’t move, eyes closed and breathing heavily, so I leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“ _ What…was that? _ ” His voice was hoarse, and I was high on it, and on the pleasure of him screaming  _ my _ name.  _ Not Chris’, mine _ . I supposed I’d made my point, thought it didn’t seem as important now.

“I thought you might enjoy that,” I smirked, feeling cocky –  _ pun absolutely intended _ – and stuck out my tongue again, running the metal across his neck this time.

Phil shuddered, and I smiled before following my tongue with a light kiss. “You may have to keep that,” he said, running a shaky hand through his own hair and letting out a soft laugh. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/166366302352/jealousy-turning-saints-into-the-sea-phanfic)


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